


Goodbye, Rick Sanchez

by Missintroverted



Series: The Misadventures of Ricki Sanchez [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, But I Didn't Have a Tag For That, Except Rick is Her Deadname, Female Rick Sanchez, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, No Beta I Live On The Edge Today, Platonic Relationships, Sexism, Swearing, The Council of Ricks Are Dicks, Trans Rick Sanchez, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missintroverted/pseuds/Missintroverted
Summary: Rick Sanchez has wanted to transition since she could remember, but an encounter with a member of the Council of Ricks makes her question whether or not she can go through with it.Featuring: A lot of swearing, drinking, introspection and not much else.It's the beginning of an era, broh!
Series: The Misadventures of Ricki Sanchez [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782376
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Goodbye, Rick Sanchez

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I myself am not trans, but I have done a lot of research and listened to testimonials from friends. However, if I've accidentally written anything ignorant, please do not hesitate to let me know. This is my first time writing a trans character, and my aim is not to offend trans folks or their experiences.

Rick Sanchez felt that there were two definite truths in the multi-verse. The first truth, and the one she would mention whenever given the chance, was that everything is meaningless, and nothing matters. The second truth, which she wouldn't admit even under the cruelest and unusual forms of torture, was that she was more afraid of her own feelings than she was of any Lovecraftian monster, intergalactic alien federation or the inevitability of death itself.

To say that self-reflection wasn’t her strong suit would be a fucking understatement. She avoided it like the bubonic plague. She would bury herself in work whenever anything close to an introspective thought would cross her mind. On days when it got really bad, she’d drink herself stupid, to the point where she’d wake up days later in a distant planet or in the middle of somebody’s trashed house with a massive headache. Or both.

Maybe it was the fact that Morty was starting to make it more difficult not to question things, or the fact that old age was making it harder for her to party as hard as she used to, but she began to realize that she couldn’t run from her inner demons forever. She was too damn old to and too tired of her constant self-denial. The last thing she wanted was to die with one more regret to add to the pile, and dying when she was involved was always a very real possibility. 

The initial announcement had gone better than she’d expected. Rick was still working out the new name, but she could at least get the pronouns going. Morty had only asked if she was just doing another one of her experiments, and after some vicious snarking on her end, he had accepted this new reality in the span of a few seconds.

Summer had been supportive, saying that Rick should totally join her for the next pride parade, and even offered to buy some overpriced merchandise with the trans flag plastered all over because it would make some great Instagram posts. Despite Rick’s jab at Summer for blatantly taking advantage of her to attract politically correct hipsters to make her account look popular, Rick had secretly appreciated it.

Beth took it pretty well, as expected, although she did ask if she should still celebrate Father’s Day or if they would just stick to Mother’s Day, to which Rick replied that both days were just ridiculous marketing schemes to guilt adults into buying gifts for the parents they never call or visit, so it didn’t matter.

Jerry, as usual, made it the most awkward by asking what Rick planned to do with her genitals, and whether or not that meant that he would have to buy period supplied for three people instead of two, causing both Beth and Summer to call him an insensitive asshole and sparking another long-winded argument between Beth and Jerry, which Rick always took as her cue to retreat into the lab.

All in all, still better than she’d expected.

*

Even after discovering the existence of other Ricks from alternative universes, Rick had never felt a kinship of any kind towards them. She also hadn’t felt the deep-seated passive-aggressive anger that every Rick seemed to hold against each other. It just seemed like a waste of energy that could be spent inventing or trading black market goods.

That quickly changed after her last trip the Citadel.

The first visit had been brief, a show-up-and-register-herself (back then, she had still referred to herself as ‘he’) affair that had only taken a few minutes of her life after a Rick popped into the garage during one of her experiments and almost got the two of them blown up. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d made her go to get her portal gun registered.

She hadn’t known it back then, but she’d been lucky. Most Ricks were found as soon as they fired their first portal, but the idiots hadn’t found her until way later. The multi-verse was infinite, after all, and hundreds of portal guns were activated for the first time on a daily basis.

It wasn’t until the last visit with Morty that she decided once and for all to never go back to the Citadel of those power-hungry assholes with hard-ons for thinly-veiled fascism. She remembered the trip, and the events that occurred, as if it’d been yesterday as opposed to a couple of months ago.

Apparently, she’d been needed for an investigation. A Rick had gone off on a Rick killing spree. The Citadel had called Ricks like herself to come and look at different Rick profiles to see if they could figure out which Rick “Evil Rick” (seriously, what were they, five?) used to be. She knew the real reason was to keep them under surveillance. They all knew that most dangerous thing to a Rick was another Rick.

It was because Rick knew this that she accepted. She still remembered her tight, pressed frown when she passed through the streets with Morty. It had all seemed fine at first. Rick had brought Morty with her since he pestered her enough about it and taking him was easier than wasting a perfectly good Mind-Blower just to shut him up.

“W-wow,” he’d said. “Th-this is really impressive.”

The city, as per usual, was filled with tall, polished white buildings and sparkling clean streets. Hundreds of Ricks and Mortys bustled about, doing whatever the fuck they did in this glorified space station. A glass dome surrounded the Citadel, protecting them both from the vacuum of space and any foreign threats.

“Y-you get used to it,” she’d said.

At the time, she still hadn’t changed anything about her outer appearance, so the average Rick, Rick Sanchez D-312-A was up to regular Rick standards.

Naturally, when the Guard Ricks assigned to escort her called her a “he”, Morty began fidgeting. Before she could stop him, he began speaking up, ignoring the Guard Ricks’ scowls.

“A-actually, Rick, uh, p-prefers—”

Rick poked him in the arm, hard enough to make him flinch. She gave the Ricks a very big, very fake smile. “Mortys, am I right?” Rick let out a loud, deliberate burp, making the other Ricks chuckle.

“T-tell me about it,” said one of them, “Mine is always complaining since the explosive acid incident. Never stops talking about how much pain he’s in, and I’m-I’m always saying, at least you still have one arm, you little shit.”

The other one laughed. “Oh, I keep losing my Morty. They all look the same, anyway, I just keep getting replacements.”

Morty’s eyes widened, and he gave Rick an alarmed, wide eyed expression. Rick could almost hear the boy’s thoughts begging them to leave.

Her jaw tightened. She forced herself to keep up the nonchalant façade. “Y-yeah, well, my Morty has that f-f-freckle on his cheek, so h-he’s easy to spot.

They finally got into the central building. Morty stayed by her side as a member of the council Rick approached.

“S-stay quiet, Morty,” she whispered. “I want t-to do t-this as quickly as—urrp—possible.”

The council Rick reached them. She recognized him as the one with the clown hair. “Welcome, Rick D-312-A. Thank you for taking the time to come over.”

“Yup,” she said, taking a large swing of her flask. She burped. “So, what’s up?”

Another Rick brought over a small hand device that projected an array of Ricks.

Clown Hair Rick began to speak. “The murderer had accessed our database on every Rick ever recorded to use a portal gun. Rick C-137 saw him go through it before killing him.”

She’d hummed. “S-so y-you j-just want me t-to let you know i-i-if I think any Rick is suspicious?”

“Straight to the point, good. Yes, just go through them and tell me if you’ve noticed any of these Ricks acting suspicious as of late. We believe the murder had an accomplice, obviously another Rick.”

She flipped through the profiles, first with disinterest, until she realized something. With each Rick, she felt something tighten in her chest. She managed to keep her voice level. “T-there aren’t any female Ricks?”

The council Rick blinked at her. He narrowed his eyes, his unibrow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“O-oh, i-it’s j-just I only see five. I-it’s just weird. L-like, you’re telling m-me that, with all the thousands of Ricks, that’s t-the amount of girl Ricks? T-that’s it?”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously, if the records only show five, then that’s all there are. Huh. Actually, we have to update the list. Two of them died since our last update.” He glanced at her. “Why? Did you find that any of them were acting strangely?”

“Er, no. Just. Thought it w-was weird. T-that’s all.”

Clown Hair scoffed. “This isn’t Feminist Discourse 101, and we aren’t taking the fucking Bechdel Test. Ricks like us look like they should. The rest are anomalies. Bound to happen within a multiverse.” He crossed his arms, a disinterested look on his face. “So you don’t have any information that is useful to us?”

“N-nope. Sorry. Nothing r-rings a b-bell. D-don’t really meet with other Ricks.”

He gestured towards the door, turning off the projections. “I have other Ricks to get to. You’re dismissed.”

“Uh, I’ll just,” she pointed at her portal gun. She shot it at the floor, producing the familiar swirling green portal. “C-come on Morty.”

It wasn’t until the portal closed behind them that she felt the tension seep out of her shoulders. She slumped onto a nearby chair, suddenly feeling tired. As she reached for one of the half-empty beer bottles on the table in her lab, she noticed Morty just standing there, staring at her.

“Wh-what the fuck are you looking at?” she snapped.

Morty stared down at his shoes. “Geez, Rick. You, um, didn’t say anything when those Ricks called you a…y’know.”

“So?”

“Why didn’t y-you say something? Or, y’know, get your g-gun and blow them up, or…”

“In a city filled with Ricks? Are you l-listening to yourself, Morty, huh? D-dija want them to turn us into Swiss cheese, y-you fucking moron?”

Morty glared at her. “That’s not my point, Rick. You could’ve just told them. I-I don’t think Ricks would really care, if they’re you.”

“I have eyes, Morty.” She emptied the beer bottle and began rummaging through her drawer until she found that nice scotch she hid for especially stressful days. “D-did you see a s-s-single woman when we walked over t-to that clown-haired dipshit?”

Morty titled his head to the side. “I saw a cat Rick and Morty, and I also saw a hammer Morty, which was super weird, by the way, even for our standards.” He began waving his hands around as he spoke, clearly getting into wherever his train of thought was starting to take him. “I-I mean, cats are at least sentient, so I can kinda be like, ‘okay, why not?’, but—”

Rick groaned. “As per usual, my naïve little grandson, you missed the point after getting so close to hitting it. Even the goddamn cat Rick and Morty were dudes.” She paused, having realized her hypocrisy, and decided to address it before Morty decided to pounce on it. “I-I mean, m-maybe I’m assuming their gender, which, y’know, if I am, then I’ll take it back, b-but you h-heard w-what that p-prick said. Not that I _care_. C-cause I don’t. At all.”

Morty was looking at her with something like pity, which did not improve her mood at all. “Wipe that expression off your face, Morty, before I start using you as a test subject for my new AIDS gun. So far it only causes rashes in the privates, b-but it’ll still make you want to bathe in b-baby powder for the next week.”

Morty opened his mouth, probably to ask something stupid like why Rick would even make that, but then he shut it. He rubbed his arm. “Well, uh, if it means anything, I still think you’re just as good as a Rick as they are.”

Rick turned away from Morty, instead of staring at the plans for a newer version of her force-field that she’d begun drafting since yesterday. “O—urrp—bviously, Morty, I’m better than those idiots.”

Her grandson laughed nervously. “Yeah.” He yawned, making a show of it, his arm stretching stiffly. “Well, uh, it’s late. Gonna hit th-the old sack. Goodnight, grandma Rick.”

She grunted. “Try not to be too obvious this time, t-the walls are thinner than you think, and I don’t need to know about your weird porn, y-you fucking pervert.”

Morty stuttered. He almost tripped on his way into the house, slamming the garage door shut behind him.

Rick gave herself a good few minutes after Morty was gone before she wiped the tear that had managed to fall down her cheek. It had been the first time Morty had called her grandma, and it felt so nice, so right, that she couldn’t stop smiling for the next hour.

*

A few days later, she had finished her body-alteration chamber. After a few trials, and some accidental transformations (including an unfortunate mishap that had turned her into a giraffe until Morty had heard the ruckus and helped her turn back, but only after spewing out some of the worst giraffe-puns Rick had ever heard) she was ready.

The chamber was a small, egg-shaped device that would accommodate her exact height and body mass. She’d made a few minor cosmetic alterations, so it would at least be pleasing to the eye. Science always came first, but she still had taste. Besides, she thought with a smirk, if this went well she could mass produce these little suckers and sell them.

Rick booted up the machine. She had made sure everybody was asleep since she had to be naked for this, and she preferred to avoid flashing her grandchildren for anything aside from comedic purposes. As the soft green light illuminated the garage, and after making sure it wouldn’t explode (again), Rick took off her clothes. A fresh pair of pants and a new turtleneck were set on the desk next to her, ready to be put on when she was done.

Rick squared her shoulders, took a step towards the open door. Just as she was about to step into the device, she froze. Not literally, but metaphorically, which was almost worse. She knew how to unfreeze herself in a pinch (she had at least three different heating devices in her hair alone) but the paralyzing fear, well…that was something else.

Fuck. Why couldn’t she do this?

Rick went over to the discarded lab coat and took out her trusty flask. The alcohol burned her throat nicely.

“You fucking wuss.” she said to the ceiling. “All this planning, and y-you j-just c-can’t do w-what needs t-t-to be done. T-typical.”

She didn’t know how long she was gazing at the wall, but at one point she got up to rummage for some of her vodka when she stumbled upon the crate where she put her heisting gear.

She’d used it less than a few months ago, helping Birdperson with some favor he owed a weapons dealer. It’d gone well, so they’d gotten massively wasted, as per usual. At one point she’d gotten into details about her blueprints for the body alteration chamber and what she planned to do with it. She hadn’t told anybody yet, but getting drunk and high had loosened her tongue.

After the words left her mouth, Rick has sucked in a breath, cursing herself. She’d hadn’t known what to expect. Her palms had begun to sweat.

Instead of sounding shocked, or disgusted, or whatever else she was expecting, Birdperson just spoke in his usual, neutral tone. “If this has been on your mind for years, then why have you waited so long, Rick?”

Rick shrugged. “I dunno, BP,” she’d said between burps. “Y-y’know, back w-when I w-wasss grown’—urrp—people were real bad about th-this sorta thing. I r-remember a trans gal getting’ the s-shit beaten outta her for…for just wearin’ lipstick to the gas station down t-the block f-f-from where I lived c-cause she didn’t p-pass.”

Despite her massive drunkness, she’d still managed to remember witnessing it on the way to the gas station. Back then, Rick hadn’t had all her experience and badass skills, so all she could do was hide behind some dumpsters, shaking like the pathetic wuss she’d been. She probably pissed herself.

Birdperson had stared silently at the wall of the shady bar, where somebody had drawn an incredibly accurate and detailed picture of a penis. He always had the same, uninterested expression on his face, so reading him had become an art for her and Squanchy.

He scratched at the crown of feathers around his neck. “It seems to me, Rick, that you are scared.”

Rick had stuttered so hard she’d spit out her drink all over the table and her shirt. “A-a-are you f-f-fuckin’ with me, BP? Me? Th-this i-i-is Motherfuckin’ me we’re talking about! I’m a f-fucking God! What. Why t-t-the fuck w-would I be afraid of s-s-somethin’ as stupid as s-smacking a pair off titsss onto this body, huh?”

Birdperson turned to Rick. “I may be mistaken, but perhaps it is because you are afraid not of your bodily changes, or what people might attempt to do to you, but what they will think of you.”

“Ffffuck you, you bird-dicked freak.”

He didn’t bat an eye at the verbal assault; Rick had said far worse shit in the past. “If it is any consolation, it does not matter to me either way. Our friendship has been forged in the heat of battle while we bathed in the spilled blood of our many enemies. Your body or your personal identity will not change who you are to me, or to those who truly care about you.”

Rick felt her eyes water, and she quickly wiped them with the edge of her sleeve. “W-why don’t y-you go take your sentimental bullshit to Sesame Street, huh?”

“I do not know where this ‘Sesame Street’ is, but your reaction makes it clear that my point has come across, and I am glad.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. She took another shot, feeling that wonderful, thick cotton-like haze settle over her mind. “Why d-don’t y—you get wasted s-s-so we can show those hot bar tenders a good t-time.”

“I am already very ‘wasted’. I can barely think straight.” he said, in the exact same tone as usual.

“S-sure, bud. L-let’s g-go th-then.”

The rest of the night had been a blur, not that it mattered. The important thing was that she stood here, now, and he had maybe, possibly, could have been right. Running around the galaxy as a Rick is tough, sure, but adventuring in her new body would be a pain in the ass.

She wouldn’t be allowed in at least 50 different planets, and she’d be in danger of being enslaved in at least a hundred. That wasn't counting the planets she hadn't discovered yet, or the Earth. Worse of all, she’d have to pay extra to be able to access her favorite brothel in the galaxy.

And the other Ricks? Ugh, she didn’t want to know how those assholes would get if she changed. Every member of the Council of Ricks had a stick so far up their asses that they were probably shitting splinters. For all she knew, they might pull some obscure law about body modification and try and have her detained.

There were too many variables, too many uncertainties in an already uncertain universe.,

But when had any of that crap stopped her before? She’d faced unspeakable horrors, yet she couldn’t take a step into a chamber to do something that felt right for once in her miserable existence?

Fuck. That.

She took a deep breath and screwed her eyes shut as she stepped inside. She heard the chamber close behind her, felt the inside buzz with energy, the cool air inside making her skin prickle. Then it started to whirl, and she heard the robotic voices make various announcements and calculations.

She began to feel as if she was floating, which she’d expected. These kinds of experiences were surreal at best, mind-screwy at worst. She hoped it’d feel like the former rather than the latter.

She wasn’t disappointed. A huge feeling of peace washed over her, and for the first time since she could remember her body felt relaxed and calm. She could taste cotton candy on her tongue. (Could she alter the types of flavors people felt when she got this business going? She’d have to check that later, it’d be a nice service to charge extra for). The entire thing was done in what felt like a few seconds. She felt as if she was on top of the goddamn world.

Then the pod opened up, and she felt her legs turn to jelly (metaphorically, thank the hypothetical Lord) and she fell flat on her face onto the concrete garage floor. She groaned and gingerly began peeling herself from the floor one limb at a time. Her elbow bumped against something, and that was when she felt them. A grin spread wide across her face. She gasped, and sat up, staring down at her chest. She grabbed them. They weren’t big or impressive, barely B-cup material, but she was an old woman who had no illusions about trying to bounce around the galaxy with saggy Double-D’s and a bad back. Just the right size for what mattered. 

“Fuck, yes.”

Her voice was different, too. So far, so good.

She rushed to pick up the hand mirror she’d placed on her desk, giggling like a little school girl and not giving a damn how stupid she sounded. Her face hadn’t changed much, also as planned, aside from her jaw, which was a tad smaller. The unibrow also stayed, because fuck societal beauty standards, she was going to Frida Kahlo this shit all the way.

“Oooh, nice.” She felt the back of her hair and discovered that her bald spot was gone. Seriously, why didn’t she think of this sooner? Sure, her hair was still thinning here and there, but it was still an upgrade.

She finally put herself together long enough to get dressed. She paused for a moment, then opened one of her drawers to pull out one of Summer’s hairbands. She tied up most of her unruly, blue hair in a ponytail, leaving out the tufts in the front. Then, after fussing with it for a total of two whole seconds, she put her hands on her (slightly wider) hips.

“Goodbye, Rick Sanchez.”

She then took out her old portal gun label that read, in sharpie, “Property of Rick Sanchez”, and pulled out a new label, scribbling on it. Carefully, she placed it on the portal gun, and only then, did her exhaustion catch up with her. She passed out on her desk, and even though she usually hated it when her body crashed like this, she still felt content in a way she hadn’t remembered experiencing before.

*

“So…Ricki, huh? It has a nice ring to it, grandma.”

Summer sat next to Ricki in the spaceship as she lazily took a scoop of her ice cream and put it in her mouth. Morty was in the back seat, licking away at his ice cream cone. 

“Figured I-I wanted it to m-make it a little familiar. I-I still have a reputation out there, y’know?” Ricki took a chunk out of the banana sitting in the middle of her three scoops of ice cream. “Short, t-to the point, and e-easy for my enemies to scream at me for mercy as I—urrrp—destroy their hopes and dreams.”

“Sure, Grandma Ricki.”

“Hey, u-um, Ricki, are you sure y-you’re feeling b-better e-enough to be d-driving?” said Morty, who had paused his make-out session with his ice cream to glance over at her.

Ricki had to admit that, despite the transformation itself being a great success, she still hadn’t anticipated the drawback. She’d crashed so hard that it made her nastiest hangover feel like a walk in the park in comparison. She was asleep for almost a month. Worst of all, she’d been forced to remain sober during the entire thing. Beth had insisted, and she threatened to take away the Wi-Fi if Summer and Morty so much as snuck a fucking mimosa up to her bedroom. At least she had been unconscious during most of it. That, and she’d experienced far worse side-effects from her experiments. At least her organs are still inside her body.

“T-trust me, Morty, if I had t-to stay another day in bed, I-I would’ve b-blown up the entire house. Besides, if anything the spaceship has auto-pilot, s-so it’ll get us back home even if I do take an unexpected nap.”

“Oh, well o-okay then.” said the boy, already going back to his frozen dessert.

A companionable silence took over. Ricki had taken the kids to one of her favorite ice cream joints on the planet (she’d wanted to go to the best in the galaxy, but Beth made enough of a fuss about her getting back behind the wheel that she’d compromised just to shut her daughter up) as a celebration for a successful procedure. They were now hovering over their hometown. It was nighttime, and the city lights glowed against the dark sky in a way that almost made you forget about the staggering negative effects of light pollution.

Morty and Summer had always wanted to do this, and she supposed she could indulge the simple-minded little shits for once.

Ugh. She was getting too damn soft. She’d have to go and raid a Confederation base or something later to balance out the grossness. “Enjoy our peace and –urp—quiet while you can, kids. Grandma has the feeling that things might get crazy. E-especially since s-she’s about to start a highly successful business i-in the body alteration industry. I-I’m going to d-destroy the p-plastic surgery industry in a matter of weeks.”

“W-well,” said Morty. “At least i-it’s an honest business. I-I think it’ll b-be great to help people.”

“Uh, I’m not helping people, Morty,” she said, glaring at her grandson. “I’m exploiting t-them. I-It’s for purely selfish r-reasons.”

Summer smiled behind her ice cream. “Sure grandma.”

“Whatever you say,” said Morty.

Ricki flipped them the bird. She leaned back in her seat, took a big scoop of ice cream, and stared up at the sky, the infinite possibilities and dangers awaiting her. She could map out this entire star system with her eyes closed, yet the thought of being able to travel through the cosmos in this body got her excited by just thinking about it.

The multi-verse may not be ready for Ricki Sanchez, but she sure as fuck was ready for it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first published one-shot. It was meant to be simple, but as per usual, the gods of fanfiction compelled me to write more. I fell in love with Ricki Sanchez as a character, so I plan on making this a series. I have a sequel with C-137 Rick Sanchez and Morty in the works. I also want to do some Stanchez. I have not seen a single episode of Gravity Falls (yet), but will that stop me? Probably not.


End file.
